


Bibi and the (No Good, Very Bad) Uneventful Day

by FleuretteFfoulkes



Category: The Scarlet Pimpernel - Baroness Orczy
Genre: Epistolary, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27441859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleuretteFfoulkes/pseuds/FleuretteFfoulkes
Summary: "Citizen Armand" writes a letter to his daughter, telling her all about his day. (He doesn't mention the Scarlet Pimpernel.)
Kudos: 2
Collections: Trope Bingo: Round Fifteen





	Bibi and the (No Good, Very Bad) Uneventful Day

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the square "Unreliable Narrator" on my Trope Bingo card.

"It's a letter from Bibi!" Fleurette exclaimed joyfully.

_Dearest Fleurette_ , she read. _Today, I went for a swim. The sun was shining, the water was warm, and it was altogether a very nice day. Afterwards, I went shopping for a new cravat. I thought it was time for a change._

Citizen Chauvelin dragged himself out of the Seine, choking and spluttering. He would have shaken his fist in damnation at the Scarlet Pimpernel who had thrown him in five minutes prior and was even now continuing to make his brilliant escape, but Chauvelin was too tired to do anything of the sort. Instead, he collapsed on the riverbank. His clothes were all black, so the mud wouldn't be too obvious. The cravat, of course, was a lost cause. Blakeney would no doubt be horrified at the limp bit of bedraggled linen that now hung at Chauvelin's throat. With a snarl, Chauvelin undid the knot, yanked the cravat from around his neck, and hurled the damp bundle of fabric back into the Seine. _That_ for Blakeney. Hopefully the man could sense injuries to a cravat at any distance, and was even now wincing in pain at the indignities rendered to a helpless cravat.

_Afterwards, I had dinner in my room at the lodging-house. I had a great deal of work to do and reports to write, but I took the time to read poetry first._

Chauvelin crumpled the scrap of doggerel in his fist and threw it into the fire. How had Blakeney even gotten access to this room? That explained how he had come up with the forged authorizations, though, because if he had gotten past the lock on the door, then the lock on Chauvelin's desk drawer would not have proved much of a hinderance.

Chauvelin sat down at his desk and put his head in his hands. The Scarlet Pimpernel was gone, and with him the de Graillys. He would have to write to Paris at once and explain how this had happened and why they still shouldn't send him to the guillotine even though he'd been outwitted by the Scarlet Pimpernel a dozen times and counting. With a sigh, he picked up his pen, then decided that the Committee could wait a little longer for their explanation. First, he was going to clear his head by writing a letter to Fleurette.

_All in all, it was a very uneventful day. I shall head back to Paris soon, and perhaps I may be able to make my way there via Laragne and thus pay you a brief visit. I hope you are well; I think of you fondly all the time._

_Yours,_

_Bibi_

"How nice!" Fleurette exclaimed. "Louise, Bibi says he had a very nice day, and I am so glad for him!"

"That's nice, dear," Louise replied.

Fleurette took her shawl and hurried out to find Amédé. She had not talked to him in nearly a day, and telling him about her letter from Bibi seemed as good an excuse to seek him out. She smiled. She was happy, and Bibi was happy; all was right with the world.


End file.
